


Top of My List

by madamewriterofwrongs



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Shopping, First Meetings, Fluff, Hopeful Ending, Letters to Santa, Love at First Sight, M/M, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:42:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28219404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madamewriterofwrongs/pseuds/madamewriterofwrongs
Summary: Buck was just about to close up shop when the bell rang. And everything would change forever.Written forevanzbuckfor the 911 Gift Exchange 2020
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Comments: 36
Kudos: 192
Collections: 9-1-1 Tales





	Top of My List

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, I _hate_ those Hallmark Christmas movies but that won't stop me from going absolutely feral over the idea of Buck and Eddie having a meet-cute in an old book store during the Christmas season. So. Here we go.
> 
> Enjoy <3
> 
> Check out my [tumblr](http://madamewriterofwrongs.blogspot.com)

Buck loved Christmas, always had. The lights, the snow, the gifts. As a kid, it had been all about getting presents and running his toboggan up the icy hill (even after his mother called him inside for dinner). Now, it was all about seeing the smile on his sister’s face when he handed her the rare book their grandmother had read to them as children, and offering hot chocolate and cab fare to the homeless man who liked to sit outside his apartment building. Make no mistake: Buck still loved receiving gifts and throwing snowballs at the neighbourhood kids (who definitely made the first shot), but there was something about the holiday season as he moved into his thirties, that made him sentimental for more. Maddie had assured him that it was simply a part of growing older. “With age, comes the desire to settle.” she’d said. Of course, that had been during her first marriage when she thought no one could see her bruises and that she truly had no other choice but to give in.

They both knew better now and were happy for it.

Moving to California had been his attempt at freedom after his own mid-western nightmare; convincing Maddie to join him was for both their sanities. The only thing he truly missed about Pennsylvania was the snow. Los Angeles was his home now, but he would always miss the snow. The thing he loved second to the frozen winter was books.

There was something so captivating about an old book, the spine bent and torn, the pages yellowed with time. His favourite books were the ones that were absolutely destroyed – and often disregarded on thrift store shelves. Those books had their own unique story to tell. They were well-loved and they showed it like a badge of honor. Maddie liked to tell him that he had a fascination for the stories people left behind – that he’d rather spend his life learning about people than math or science – and perhaps she was right. Because he’d never felt more at home than the day he’d walked into that used book store and walked out with a job.

It didn’t have everything, but it had enough.

Maybe Buck didn’t have to settle. Maybe he was allowed to wait to find ‘the one’ – or, perhaps, never marry at all. His boss was an elderly, single man, and he’d never met anyone with so much joy in his soul. So what, if Buck fell asleep staring at the empty side of his bed last night? So what, if he saw the father’s with their kids walking through downtown and he audibly sighed? He was doing just fine on his own.

He was just closing up for the night when he heard the jingling of the bell and he sighed. Some small part of him had been hoping to spend his last hour without interruption but there was technically one minute left on the clock so his plan to wallow in his own self-pity would have to wait.

The sight of his jolly employer let the last layer of professionalism fall away.

“Hey, Nick, I’ll help you unload.”

“I’m glad I caught you before you left.” The old man smiled beneath his beard. “I could definitely use your help unloading all of these.”

“Did you only hire me for my muscles?”

“And your charming smile.” Nick patted the man’s cheek as Buck snorted in laughter. “Got to keep the younger generation interested.”

The young man shook his head but helped his employer pull the box onto the counter. “I thought you had the day off.”

The man hauled a box filled with old, worn books in front of Buck with a huff and a cheeky smile. “And leave you to man the shop all by yourself? Not a chance.”

Even as he shook his head at his boss, Buck began to pull their latest delivery from the cardboard box to properly catalogue. “I thought you’d be out enjoying the weather.” He scolded. Not that he didn’t appreciate the man’s company, but it wasn’t as though he was run off his feet. But he should have known better: the old man had never taken a day off in his life.

“I should be telling you that, my boy.” Nick leaned against the counter to watch Buck work. “You could have closed up early. You should be out with your sweetheart, getting some sun while you still can. It’s going to snow today.”

The blond smiled fondly, far too used to his boss’ antics. Two years hadn’t changed him at all. “You say that every day. Besides, I don’t exactly have a sweetheart to take.”

“What happened to Ali?”

He didn’t mean to slam the book enough to lift a layer of dust from the desk, but thoughts of the woman, standing in his apartment, with only a vague look of disappointment, filled his chest with shame. “She broke up with me three months ago, remember? Said there wasn’t a spark.” He scoffed, muttering under his breath “Whatever that means.”

Nick patted his arm, never minding his display of frustration. The man was infallible when it came to kindness. “You’ll find someone. I know it.”

Buck, however, had less patience for hope. “Yeah? Do you think Santa finally got my letter about sleeping alone?”

Across the counter, the other man tilted his head, curiously, his white beard sweeping across his green cable-knit sweater. “You didn’t send a letter.”

“Of course not.” Buck busied himself with pulling more stories from the box to mark in his leger. “I’m not a kid anymore. But it’ll take a Christmas miracle to find someone. Why not ask for the big guy’s help?” At this point, it felt just as likely that Santa would grant his wish, as it would for him to meet someone on his own.

Being alone around the holidays was difficult (especially now that Maddie was spending her Christmas with someone else – some man she’d met who made her starry-eyed for the first time), and admitting that he was lonely every other day of the year, only made the lack of snow harder to manage.

“It won’t take a miracle.” Nick patted his arm as he walked around the counter to join Buck. “Just a little patience and keeping an open eye. You never know when the right one will step right into your path.” There were times when Buck would look at his boss and see something twinkle in his eye; a mischief in his calm expression. Once, he swore he saw a literal twinkle (but it had turned out to be the reflection off his glasses in the sunlight). Still, whenever Nick got that glint in his eye, Buck found himself curiously lighter. Hopeful, maybe? He had half a mind to ask the man if there was something he should know.

Both men turned as the bell signaled a new customer coming through the door.

“Please tell me you’re still open, I promise, we’ll be quick.”

The first thing Buck processed was the rubber thump of crutches moving across the floor and into the doorway. They were followed by a little boy with a mop of dark blond curls and an adorably crooked smile behind his bright red glasses. Just as he’d felt when he saw mischief in his boss’ eye, Buck felt lighter simply for seeing the smile on that little boy’s face. It was rare enough to see children in a used book store, let alone one who seemed excited to be there. He took an instant liking to the boy.

The second thing Buck was able to process was the person holding open the door for the kid to step through. The man in question was something out of a magazine, chiseled jaw and dimpled cheeks and a physique that must have taken years to sculpt – though Buck didn’t find himself overly interested in the man’s crunch technique. Atop his head was a darker, tamer set of curls, but the manner in which they interacted, told him everything he needed to know about their relationship to one another.

If it weren’t obvious from the gentle way he guided the boy through the store, nothing screamed ‘parental’ like watching his son walk off on his own with a sad smile on his face. It was a fondness he’d seen in parents over the years (usually elderly parents with their grown children, trying to rediscover that forgotten book from their youth). Pride and loss were always locked in battle with one another, never one fully without the other.

There was a pang of longing Buck hadn’t expected to feel after one glance at the pair, but it grew under his heart nonetheless, pushing the organ against his ribs until it ached.

Did he want kids? He hadn’t given it a proper thought since sex ed class when he was absolutely certain that he would do everything in his power _not_ to become a father before he was ready. Was he ready now?

Or perhaps it was the man who reminded him that it was still possible to be left breathless by the beauty of another human being. While, an admirable talent, good looks were not all he was interested in anymore. Besides, what were the odds that a man like that – with a son in tow – was single and interested in him?

That said, the Adonis was a father and that was a sure indication of an ability to commit. Maybe it was simply seeing a father looking at his son like he hung the moon, but still giving his freedom, that reminded Buck why he hadn’t called his parents except on holidays and birthdays since the day he left home.

Whatever the source of the desire pressing against his chest, it grew until he could hear nothing else.

“Excuse me, Mister.” A small voice broke through the haze and the shop worker found himself staring down at a boy with earnest eyes and a patient expression.

He blinked away any thought that could possibly be deemed as inappropriate for the workplace by a boss who wasn’t Nick, and smiled at the kid. _Get your head on straight, Buckley._

“What’s up, buddy?”

The little boy grinned in return and though Buck never believed in love at first sight, he got the distinct impression that in another life, he would have done anything for this kid if only he asked.

“I’m looking for a book.”

Nick’s laugh pulled their attention briefly, a joyful, belly laugh that shook his body with pure joy. “You’ve certainly come to the right place, my boy.”

Buck returned to the kid’s face in time to see his bright grey eyes widen in shock and delight before meeting Buck’s. Whatever funny face Nick must have pulled behind his back, only served to amuse the child even more, and his own smile bloomed brighter.

“What kind of book are you looking for?”

A small wave of hesitancy curled over the boy’s shoulders and he leaned against his crutches in order to turn and face his father. It gave Buck a greater opportunity to observe the man leaning against the side of the “Newly Discovered!” shelf as though he had been there his entire life.

His ankles were crossed in a relaxed position, arms folded the same (revealing the distinguished line of muscle along his forearm). He wasn’t as broad as Buck – who spent too much of his free time at the gym, according to his sister – but he looked strong, like his body was built this way for a purpose and not merely the aesthetic, which he’d already established was pleasurable to behold.

Honey-brown eyes were trained solely on his son as he nodded in encouragement.

No matter the source of the longing still pounding distantly in his mind, he felt at peace seeing a boy so loved by his father.

With his dad’s support, the child turned back to Buck. “It’s for Carla!” He excitedly told him. “She takes care of me when daddy’s at work.”

Before Buck could ask any follow-up questions, the man reminded his son “she likes poetry and art books, right?”

“Yeah,” the boy agreed with an enthusiastic nod to Buck and concluded “so we want to find a rare book for her so she knows how special she is.”

If Buck wasn’t already head over heels for this kid, the sincerity of his words definitely sealed the deal.

“Well then, I know exactly where to look.” As he rounded the counter, Buck held out his hand for the boy to shake. He kneeled before him and introduced himself. “I’m Buck, by the way.”

The child’s grip was loose but his eyes were filled with conviction and professionalism. “My name’s Christopher and that’s my dad, Eddie.”

Later, Buck would imagine those round, brown eyes staring at him. The dusting of colour in the man’s cheeks made his smile more difficult to fight, but he’d continue to think about those eyes as he made his way home at the end of the night. They were bright and deep but warm in colour – like an autumn evening. When they looked at Buck, he felt assessed beneath a layer of skin, as though this man ( _Eddie_ ) could see into his very soul. And, God help him, he wanted to let him see everything.

“It’s nice to meet you.” His words were to Christopher but his eyes were on Eddie as though they were incapable of parting. But, as all wonderful things – shooting stars, the last page of a good book, the first taste of a first love – it ended too soon. “Let me show you what I had in mind.”

Introducing his two customers to the store felt, somehow, like giving them a tour of his home and seeking their approval of the décor. In a way, it was. They said home was where the heart lived, and Buck’s heart was nestled warmly between the stacks of the shelves he’d built with Nick over the past two years. Together, they’d cultivated a world safe from time; within these four walls existed a haven that Buck had come to call home. Having thoroughly been charmed by both father and son from such a brief interaction, there bloomed a desire to invite them inside and ask them to stay.

He knew it was foolish to entertain such a strong desire after knowing the pair for only a few minutes, but Buck reasoned that it wasn’t the boys, but what they represented, that attracted him most. A family – a loving family – who valued kindness and seemed to adore one another: who wouldn’t want that?

If Eddie existed in his dreams for other reasons, that may be his business, but that, too, was less about Eddie and more for his sheer loneliness.

The blond packed away his own longing as he passed each shelf until he could return to the business at hand.

“Here we are.” he proclaimed, coming to a stop in front of a tall, thin bookshelf bolted to the corner wall of the shop. “Poetry and Prose.” Buck stepped aside to let the pair examine for themselves, and gave over to a fond smile at the wide-eyed wonder on Christopher’s face. “Now I have an idea of what book Carla might like but why don’t you look around and tell me if there’s one that catches your eye.”

Buck had a love-hate relationship with browsers. He understood that sometimes, people had a bit of time to kill and would stop in to check out the ‘cool’ books with no intention of buying, or even possessing an appreciation for the finds. He understood that it was a rare person who could look at the books with their tattered covers and yellow pages, and see the beauty in them. He understood the magic that existed in merely standing in a bookshop (he’d experienced it himself many times). He understood that in order to understand that magic, everyone had to start somewhere.

Besides, Eddie looked positively adorable as he scanned the shelves without reading any particular title. He watched the man bite the inside of his cheek and wince at some of the price tags – another thing he also understood, especially if he was a single father as Buck suspected – but always, his hands stayed on Christopher’s shoulders. As though he was prepared to defer to his son’s wishes at a moment’s notice.

At last, he surrendered.

“I have no idea what I’m looking for, Buck.” Eddie admitted with a sigh and shy smile that only made the employee’s smirk twist tighter. “What was your idea?”

He was very aware that his laugh was more playful and brighter than it should be with any customer, but watching Eddie’s smile slip for just a moment at the sound, reassured him that the attraction was definitely not one-sided.

“It’s called _The Golden Treasury of Songs & Lyrics_.” He informed Christopher, who nodded like a soldier receiving his mission from his commander. “It has a red cover with a golden lyre on the spine.”

“A lyre?”

“It’s like a harp.”

With another nod, the boy turned his attention to the shelves within his eyesight to begin his search. As Christopher examined the bottom rows of books with a careful finger running just along the shelving (as though afraid to even touch the precious books, bless him), Buck returned his attention to Eddie.

“So, uh, what do you do for a living?” Not his smoothest line but admittedly, having a child standing between them was a bit awkward for flirting purposes.

“I’m a firefighter with the LAFD.”

_Of course, you are._

“What?”

“Nothing.” Buck cursed his own inner masochist for muttering the statement under his breath. But _of course_ Eddie would be a firefighter right off the page of the calendar. Mr. July, indeed.

“So, what do you do for a living?” Eddie bounced on his heels as he shoved both hands into his gray coat.

Even if he weren’t drop-dead gorgeous, Buck couldn’t help but find the man’s anxiety just a little bit endearing.

“I-I sell books.” He glanced at the bookshelf for emphasis but brought his eye back in time to see Eddie blush again and laugh at his own mistake.

“Right, of course. So uh”

“Daddy, I can’t see that shelf, can you help?”

Both men shook out of their shared stupor at the sound of Christopher’s voice below them. Right; he was still technically working. Eddie patted his son’s shoulder in apology. “I got you, buddy.” he assured, before turning his attention to the higher shelves, in search of their precious treasure.

Buck joined in the hunt, only having a vague memory of marking the book and placing it in the ‘Poetry’ section a few months ago. This wasn’t exactly the most popular section of the store (if a barely surviving collection of dust and magic could be described as ‘a store’). His eyes scanned each row carefully, keeping the cover in his mind to prevent too much distraction. Whether the fantastic words he’d yet to read before him, or the enticing man beside him, he worked diligently to stay focused on the task at hand. It shouldn’t be too difficult, he reasoned. There were only so many shelves and so many red covers under which this book could be hiding.

Finally, _finally_ , his eye caught sight of a slightly familiar red-orange spine with golden lettering and a lyre traced with the same ink.

“Here!” he exclaimed, in sync with Eddie, who reached out a hand to grab the book as Buck extended his own.

Buck had spent many-a-night in his life reading fiction as though, if he only tried hard enough, he could physically escape into the world within the pages. He learned about magic schools, futuristic rebellions, mysterious time doors, and worlds without colour. He cried over every death, and celebrated every return; he was so knowledgeable in the human body that he was sent home twice for potentially scarring his teachers with his short stories (apparently, not every sixth grader was desensitized to anatomically problematic sex scenes, or enjoyed detailing gruesome crime scenes). He fell in love on a daily basis and never truly fell out of love. His sister called him a hopeless romantic – or an incurable optimist – but really, he just liked to see the best in the world and in the people with which he chose to spend his life (be they fictional or otherwise).

Many novels detailed the feeling of meeting someone who would later come to mean everything to the protagonist. Sometimes, it was barely worth a mention because their love would grow with too much time to measure. For others, the world stopped turning for the briefest moment, as though the universe were acknowledging two souls finally reuniting. Other times, there would be a physical sensation to mark their meeting – a spark or a tingle – that would release a gasp of realization.

For Buck, touching Eddie’s hand felt like pins and needles running from the tips of his fingers and across his chest until it melted into his toes.

_Electricity will always find the easiest path to ground._

It just so happened that the easiest path was through his heart.

From Eddie’s gasp, it seemed that the feeling was mutual. Yet, neither of them parted immediately despite the shock to their system. They stood still, hands barely brushing one another’s, awkwardly tangled over the book they both sought. And for one moment, that miracle he’d joked about only minutes earlier seemed, finally, attainable.

Eddie looked into his eyes and Buck felt another wave of electricity swim under his skin – this time, at a languid pace, filling him completely. His eyes really were beautiful; expressive (like his), and a warm pool inviting him to take the leap. But beyond those pretty eyes he was in danger of getting lost in, Buck saw something he recognized as his own: belum. It was an Indonesian word that translated to ‘not yet’ but the feeling was something akin to hopeful anticipation.

_Not yet. But soon._

And they held that feeling in between them for an eternity, each eye falling deeper, and each smile shaking with the desire to explode.

They held so long, in fact, that neither noticed the little boy between them as he turned around to face the man at the counter. Christopher smiled broadly at Nick, who lifted the letter he’d been carrying in his pocket for weeks, and showed it to the boy with a cheerful wink. Instantly, the kid recognized his own handwriting as the letter he’d sent to Santa, and his eyes grew wide.

Nick laughed again – a jolly, full-bodied chuckle that made Christopher gasp with realization. He looked up at his father and took in the sight of his bright smile, even as he tried to shyly hide his expression. For a moment: nothing else mattered in the entire world, except for the three boys, meeting for the first time and yet reuniting after a lifetime away. And nothing else would matter, because there was hope on the air once again; and a bright future for them all.

“I knew he could do it.” Christopher whispered as Nick disappeared.

Outside, a thin layer of snow began to fall.

* * *

_Dear Santa,_

_My name is Christopher Diaz and I live in Los Angeles, California._

_I have been very good this year. I clean my room when my dad tells me to and I help my bisabuela with her garden whenever I go to visit. I try to do all my homework but social studies is hard and I don’t like it. But I still try._

_For Christmas, I don’t have a list._

_I just want my dad to be happy._

_He hasn’t smiled since mommy died but that was two years ago. I miss her every day and he told me its okay to be sad but I think he’s lonely._

_So Santa, if you could find a way to bring my dad back his smile, I promise to be extra good next year and do all my social studies homework instead of pretending that I forgot it when I actually hid it in my math textbook._

_Sincerely,_

_Christopher Diaz_

_p.s. if you have room on the sleigh, I’d also like a skateboard but only if there’s room. My dad’s more important._


End file.
